Dread Wolf, Taken
by Author-Of-Sin
Summary: She was the impudent girl next door that loved to play the racket she called 'music' too loud, he was the ancient deity she should've bowed before. But what he gets instead, is a smart mouth and a wink that leaves him speechlessly and inexplicably turned on. She may have escaped him for now, but he's caught her scent. The catch is: she is every bit the hunter that he is.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello lovelies. Been a while since I filled a tumblr prompt, but this combo was juicy enough to fire my naughty little fingers into action. Thank you for your support and your prompts; keep 'em flowing, my darlings. 3_

Prompt combo: Modern AU, next door neighbor Fem!Lavellan playing music too loud, sub!Fen'harel.

_Don't worry, we'll get to all of those. But I've been simply itching to do a modern AU for several weeks now, and I'd rather not have it be over immediately. Not sure how long of a series it'll be, but likely not as long as my other stories. So, enjoy it while it's here. 3_

_This comes to you raw and unedited; any mistakes are mine and I own them. I do NOT own any of the characters, though my Lavellan (as always) is basically me. So I guess I sort of own her? Ish? *shrug*_

"Dread Wolf, Taken"

Chapter 1

It was a lovely night. The stars were bright and the moon hung low in the sky, full to bursting with Mythal's light. The grass was damp with the rain that had fallen just before sunset, the clouds clearing just in time for a brilliant array of colors to burst through the clouds in a spectacle worthy of remembering for years to come.

This, of course, was only in the Fade. In the 'real world', as everyone he knew kept insisting it be called, the rain persisted even now, depriving his body of the loveliness his mind was witnessing. But dreamers like him were allowed an escape, a respite from the world's cares and burdens, a-

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

His thoughts interrupted, he looked around for the source of the sound; a racket that kept going, despite his efforts to find and silence it. It was then that he realized the noise was not coming from the Fade. The moment that fact settled in, he rolled his eyes with a sigh, his perfect concentration shattered. He felt the undeniable pull, the sucking of his soul back into his physical body, and with a fierce growl of annoyance, succumbed to it.

He came to with a groan, reaching up to groggily rub his hand over his face. With that action, his body's senses began to awaken, slowly sharpening from their sleep-dulled state. His ears pricked at the sound that had woken him to begin with: the incredibly loud, repetitive, grating sound of his neighbor blaring some thrice-damned cacophony he'd been lead to understand was what passed for music in this age. Oh, what he wouldn't give for an honest-to-gods bard with a lute, plucking gentle chords and singing sweet melodies, with lyrics that actually meant something.

Thump, thump, thump, thump.

Instead, he had _this_. This abomination of sound that wasn't fit for elvhen consumption. He curled his body into a generally upright position, his elbows slumping onto his thighs as he hung his head, sighing. He looked over at his alarm clock, the red letters shining out brightly in the otherwise pitch black of his room to announce the hour like a red-eyed demon. Two in the damned morning. He shook his head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening.

Suddenly, the thumping 'music' stopped. He listened for a moment. Did his neighbor realize the late hour and turn the music off out of some belated courtesy? The seconds ticked by in continued, blissful silence, and he let himself fall back down into his pillows with a heaved sigh of relief. It would take a while for him to slip back into slumber, but at least he could do it in silence now.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"FENEDHIS!" He snarled as he jerked upright, his anger flaring hot enough that he didn't even blush at his explicative, as he threw the covers from his legs and scrambled from his bed. He quickly reached for the pants and undershirt draped over his desk chair, shoving his legs into the pants and sliding the shirt on as he tore towards the door of his apartment. He realized he'd put his shirt on backwards just as he reached the door, growling his frustration as he fumbled to right it in his haste. The constant, pounding beat shook the walls and lent a rather frustratingly appropriate background to his rage, as his shirt refused to cooperate.

He finally managed to set the damned clothing to rights, snorting an enraged huff as he unlocked his door and stepped into the hallway, closing it behind him. He charged towards the door to his neighbor's unit, raising his fist to beat on the offending barrier as loudly as he could manage. With a chagrined groan, he realized he'd matched his knocking to the same beat as the sound crime issuing from behind it. He raised both fists, rapping a staccato tempo against the door. That got results.

The music quieted, and he heard footsteps leading hesitantly up to the other side of the door. He stood there, arms crossed, as he heard the metallic squeak of the peephole flap being pushed aside. The noise repeated in opposite, then was immediately joined by the clatter of the door chain sliding into place, followed by the deadbolt being keyed to open. The click of the door handle registered, and an eye the color of the greenest forest in Elvhenan, eyebrow raised, peeked out.

"Can I help you?" The voice was female, melodious, a silken comfort to his ears, despite her music still playing in the background; albeit at a more respectable volume.

"You can help me, yes. By keeping your music at its _current_ decibel or lower at two A.M., instead of rudely waking those of us who have to work in the morning."

"Ahh." He could hear the smile in her voice. It both poked at the wolf in him and stroked something in his soul to life that he'd long ignored. "So _you're_ the mysterious hah'ren who lives next door."

He bristled at her usage of 'hah'ren'; her tone indicating that she thought it just meant 'old fart', rather than the respect the title actually implied. He sighed, subtly rolling his eyes.

"Yes, I am the _elvhen_ who lives next to you. Now, would you please entertain the notion of keeping your... music at a respectable level from now on?"

"Oh-ho!" Her laugh was genuine and mocking all at once, "_Elvhen_, are you? Are you older than you look, hah'ren? Should I curtsy? Am I in the presence of royalty? Shall I ask you the key to unlock my friend's el'u'vi'an? Can I sit at your feet while you regale me of tales of ancient elvhen glory that my tiny mind cannot possibly imagine?"

"Enough!" He snapped, "Your mocking is unnecessary. And if I was as you say, the utter lack of respect and personal dignity you have just displayed would not only be embarrassingly insulting, but a detriment to your ignorant kind that would rival the fall of Elvhenan itself."

He would have continued, but her laughter interrupted him soundly.

"Oh, hah'ren, calm yourself, lest you break a hip and I have to carry you back to your bed. I'll keep the music down for your delicate ears. But I expect this is not the last we shall see of each other."

With that, she blinked in what he could only surmise was her best indication of a wink, with only the one eye visible, and closed the door. He heard her laughter continue as she locked the deadbolt and walked away, her snickers echoing pleasantly through the hall behind her as she retreated.

He stood there, staring at the space her emerald eye had occupied moments before, in shock. He wasn't sure whether to be insulted or deeply, incredibly aroused. None had ever possessed the boldness to not only insult, but dismiss him so easily. Not once in his many thousands upon thousands of years of existence had anyone so summarily forced his tongue into silence. He was entirely unused to being so easily manipulated.

His sense of smell seemed to decide that was the correct time to wake. It was always the last sense to recover from his sleep, unless he was forced to use his wolf for defense immediately upon waking. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, leaning into the area she had so recently occupied to catch her scent. The strong scent of elfroot smoke was somehow unsurprising, but not unpleasant. He caught her musk, her perfume, and a hint of honeysuckle; likely her hair oil. He exhaled with a rumble of satisfaction, an impish smirk curling one corner of his mouth up.

After what felt like centuries he'd gone without a decent hunt, all at once, he had a new prey. It was true he'd never once seen the woman in this apartment before tonight, they seemed to always miss each other; likely due to scheduling conflicts. But now he would be able to find her anywhere, schedules be damned.

And find her, he would. Find her and learn about her, understand what it was in her that captivated him so. Learn how she could so smugly dismiss him, as if he were nothing more than a fleck of dust; yet tempt him so thoroughly at the same time. His adrenaline surged as instincts older than the concept of time rose up and beat against his skin in time with his heartbeat. He let out a pleased growl and grinned in delight.

This would be a delicious hunt.


	2. Chapter 2

Dar'eth shiral: travel safely  
Sule tael tasalal: until we meet again  
fenedhis: wolf dick  
abelas: sorry  
shem(len): quickened (quick blood), mortal  
asha: woman  
mamae: mother  
papae: father  
da'len: little child

If I missed any, let me know, or consult FenxShiral's elven language work on AO3. It's excellent.

I am SO enjoying writing this for you guys. It's such a fun trip. Hope you enjoyed this installment, more coming soon!

* * *

"Ugh! Dread Wolf take you, asha, must you play your music loud enough for the whole shop to hear?"

She looked up from the painting she was working on, zeroing in on the source of the voice: her boss. He had his head poked around the corner of the wall, just visible through the many racks of various tools and art supplies hanging on the walls. She picked up the remote control for her stereo and turned the volume down.

"If it bothers you that much, you should put your own music on. You know, something you and the babies we call customers would like?"

Her boss, which luckily also happened to be her older brother, rolled his eyes and waved her off.

"It's not the music that's the problem, it's the volume. You're driving the babies away. Just keep it down, for their sakes," he mumbled as he turned to go back to work.

She snorted. "Yeah yeah, I'll keep it down for the babies. I swear, they're as bad as my neighbor."

His head reappeared, along with the rest of his heavily tattooed body. "Neighbor? Someone giving you grief?"

She laughed. "Not as much as he thinks he is."

"He?" Her brother wore a decidedly suspicious expression.

She rolled her eyes. "Sylaise's tits, Fenris, nobody's going to hurt me. I'm a living tazer, remember?"

She gave a wicked grin and held up her hand, calling her magic forth to arc electricity between her spread fingers that popped and crackled in the dry air.

Fenris shook his head. "You rely too much on your magic. Your mana's not infinite, you know."

She smiled and slid off her stool, walking over to peck her brother on the cheek lovingly.

"That's why I keep you around, silly," she explained cheerfully, "you're my living lyrium repository."

Fenris groaned and rolled his eyes. "I'm so glad you look at me as nothing but an infinite lyrium potion. It's so comforting."

She scoffed in mock indignation. They'd had this conversation a hundred times and she knew he was only teasing at this point; that the fake scowl he was wearing hid a smile.

"You know damn well that's not how I see you." She planted another peck on his cheek, which he griped at and wiped off as he rolled his eyes again.

"Yes, yes, I know. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you: Dorian called, said he would be late, but he'd stay late to make up for it."

She sighed dramatically. "Shemlen, always making excuses. Oh well, not like it's the first time. As long as he's here in time to dry the paint and clean up, that's all that matters, really."

Fenris nodded. "True enough. Well, back to work."

"See you for dinner?" She asked, before he could turn away.

He grimaced, shaking his head. "No, sorry. Hawke wants to take us out to this new club everyone's been raving about, apparently it's all the rage in the underground."

She raised an eyebrow. "'Us'? Am I invited for once, then?"

He shrugged. "If you want to come. Merrill and Isabella are coming, as are Bull and Dorian. I heard some other people mentioned, but you know I'm horrible with names."

She crossed her arms, bringing her hand up to scratch her chin in thought.

"It... does sound like fun, but remember we still have to meet with that new gallery owner tomorrow. I'd rather not do that smelling like a brewery."

Fenris scoffed. "You _could_ take a shower, you know."

She rolled her eyes. "You know even if I do, I'll still smell like it. Mage's metabolism, remember? Just because you somehow didn't get papae and mamae's magic genes, doesn't mean the rest of us didn't."

"It's not my fault you all drink so much when we go out that you smell like a distillery for the next two days! It doesn't bother Hawke or Merrill." Fenris sighed. "But fine, you decide on your own and let Hawke know. I'm going regardless."

"Alright, I will. Did Dorian say how late he'd be? I need to get to work on this last piece for tomorrow. I don't want it to bleed just because he's not here."

He nodded. "He said he'd be here in an hour, but that was around thirty minutes ago, so you won't be waiting long. Just work on something else in the meantime?"

She shrugged. "Maybe." She looked at the clock on the wall. "You want some coffee? Grinds Emporium just opened; I could run by there real quick."

Fenris sneered in disgust. "Why do you go to that place? It's horrible. I know it's closer, but I'd rather get something from Elgar'nan's Rise. I'll give you gas money if you'll go there instead."

"Fine, you whiny da'len; I'll go to the stupid place that keeps me in line for an hour. The usual?"

"I am not whiny! I'm older than you! And you'll be in line at Grinds just as long and you know it. But yes, the usual." He shook his head and fished ten silvers from the coin pouch on his belt, dropping them in her hand.

"Thank you, much older, wiser, non-whining brother of mine. I'll be back in a million years," she said with a sarcastic sigh, kissing his cheek and reaching for her keys, after she slipped the coins into her own coin purse.

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Dar'eth shiral, sister."

"Sule tael tasalal, brother," she called back with a wave, as she rushed out the back door of his shop. Said door deposited her into a short alley between buildings, which ended in a small, magically sheltered employee parking lot. She heard a car door slam as she neared it, looking up to see Dorian heading her way, his nose in his phone.

"Dorian! Good of you to show up."

He looked up sharply, startled. "Ah! Missy, you frightened me." He bowed his head in respect. "Apologies for the lateness, I had an errand that couldn't wait."

She chuckled. "Don't let Fenris hear you calling me that. Anyway, he said you weren't to be here for another half hour, so I'm actually glad you're here now."

Dorian grimaced and blushed. "Right, sorry. The errand didn't take as long as I'd thought it would."

He gestured to the keys in her hand. "Are you heading off already?"

"No." She shook her head. "I'm just grabbing coffee from Elgar'nan's, want to come with?"

He looked uncertain. "Will they even let me in there? I thought that was an exclusively elven café?"

She nodded. "It is, but they'll let you in if you're with me. They can hardly deny any member the Lavellan clan some eccentricities, considering how much money we've poured into this city." She waved him on with a smile. "Come if you like."

He hesitated. "Won't someone object? I wouldn't want to cause any trouble."

She looked at him and sighed. "Dorian, I don't give a flying fenedhis if someone has a problem with me taking a human friend somewhere. Besides, if it really causes an issue, you're technically my employee, so it can easily be excused if someone gets their smalls in a bunch."

He pocketed his phone, nodding. "Fair enough. Want me to drive, to make the whole employee thing look more official?"

She laughed. "Dorian, you're not my chauffeur. And you're not dressed like one, so that wouldn't work anyway. It's not the first time we've gone somewhere together for Mythal's sake, just come on."

He sighed as he followed her to her car. "Alright, alright, I'm just trying to be helpful. I don't want any trouble on my account, that's all."

She unlocked her car with the fob, shaking her head as she opened the driver side door. "There won't be any. Trust me. Just don't call me 'Missy' in front of anyone. They'll probably just ignore you anyway, par usual."

He waited until they were both seated to respond, as he buckled himself in. "What shall I call you then? Miss Lavellan, like I do in front of your brother?"

She turned to him, wide-eyed. "You act like you've never been anywhere with me before, Dorian. What's gotten into you? Did someone say something?"

He shook his head. "Not really. But I've never been anywhere with you during the day; it's always clubs or bars at night. It's an entirely different world out there for us shems during the day."

She sighed, cranking her car's engine and resting her hands on the steering wheel, her fingers tapping it in thought.

"I suppose that's true. I hadn't thought of it like that. But, 'Miss Lavellan' should be fine, if you've occasion to use it. I doubt anyone would have an issue with that, and if they do, they can take it to me. But they probably won't."

He nodded. "Alright then, Miss Lavellan; shall we go before some Ice Caste cretin tries to take your place in line?"

She chuckled. "Yes, let's. The last thing we need today is one of those damp idiots messing with our auras."

The ride to Elgar'nan's Rise was only ten blocks, but with traffic, it could take up to twenty minutes. They managed to arrive and find parking in just under sixteen, miraculously. The host at the door sneered at Dorian, but allowed them in with little argument, after testing his aura and finding him sufficiently gifted. The line wasn't quite as horrible as usual, so they were soon at the counter, an obviously non-mage young elven woman smiling at Lavellan and asking for her order.

After giving her and Fenris' order, she turned to Dorian. "Do you want anything?"

The girl behind the counter timidly interrupted. "I'm... sorry miss, but we don't serve shems here."

She snapped her gaze back to the girl, narrowing her eyes. "Are you saying you'd refuse service to a Lavellan? I'm making the order here, not him. If I want to buy him coffee, you will damn well make it, or I will see this place shut down before you can blink."

The girl bowed low, stumbling over her words. "Of- of course, Mistress Lavellan, p-please excuse me, I misspoke. We'll be happy to serve you whatever you wish."

She nodded, satisfied. "Glad I am to hear it." She turned back to Dorian. "Now then, would you like anything, Dorian?"

"Caramel macchiato, with a splash of lyrium, if that's alright. Feeling a bit slow today," replied Dorian, with a bow of thanks. He reached for his coin purse to pay for his, but Lavellan stopped him with a hand on his and a smile.

"That's fine, Dorian; I've got it." She turned back to the girl behind the counter. "You did hear his order, yes?"

The girl nodded emphatically. "Yes, Mistress Lavellan, we'll make it right away."

Lavellan paid and started to turn away, but the girl wasn't done yet.

"Thank you for your patronage." She added another, unnecessary bow to her parting line.

Lavellan nodded dismissively, heading for one of the waiting tables, Dorian following close on her heels. She sat and waved at the other side of the table, inviting Dorian to sit as well. She sighed and shook her head discretely. As much as she understood why places like this were so exclusive, Dorian was hardly just any common riff-raff shem off the street. Refusing him - of all shems - service was ridiculous. Not that they necessarily knew that, but it still rankled her. It was not an opinion that made her popular amongst her peers. Most of her friends were shems. She liked shems.

She looked over at Dorian and flavored her smile with a wink. "So, did Bull tire you out last night?" She asked, her tone hushed. "I'm guessing that's why you need the lyrium."

His blush betrayed him before his words had the chance to. "I, well, yes."

She giggled in glee. "Did he finally try out the new gear I bought him for you? I've been dying to hear how it all fit."

His blush deepened. He leaned in, keeping his voice low. "That was from _you_? Oh dear merciful gods, no wonder he was so eager. He fancies you, you know. He couldn't get it all on me fast enough; I thought he was going to turn into a tornado, as fast as he was rushing about."

She chuckled. "Well did you enjoy yourself, at least?"

He rolled his eyes and smirked, nodding.

She grinned. "Good. I'm-"

A flash of reflected light flickered over her eye, making her jerk and look at the source. Her hand promptly slapped to her mouth as it gaped in shock.

Dorian followed her line of sight, turning to see what had surprised her, then turning back to look at her, eyebrow raised.

"What is it?"

She snorted, dissolving into giggles, through which she managed to say, "That elf just outside the window is my neighbor. Oh, _gods_, have I got a story to tell you when we get out of here."

Dorian was incredulous as he looked back at the elf. "Him? I thought you'd never met your neighbor before; how do you know it's him?"

She made a shushing sound when she saw the bald elf was actually entering Elgar'nan's. Dorian heard her just in time to turn back around and avoid eye contact with the older elf. She watched discretely as he got in line, getting a better look at him, now that she wasn't seeing him through the peephole or a crack in her door. He was definitely older than her, but not so old as to be out of her preferred age range. He wasn't conventionally attractive, but he wasn't ugly either. She suspected hair would help soften his rather severe features, if he'd actually grow some. He was dressed in clean, well tailored clothing that looked like something her father would wear on more casual business trips; nothing too fancy, but it hinted at wealth. All in all, he wasn't entirely undesirable.

"I hope you'll pardon my saying so, Miss Lavellan, but it looks as if you're sizing up prey to be devoured," Dorian murmured quietly, a highly amused smirk on his face as he idly massaged his mustache into its customary shape.

She looked at him, eyes wide, shaking her head sharply as she whispered her reply, "_Quiet_, you, don't say my name! I don't want him overhearing. And I'm not sizing up anything. I just didn't get a good look at him the last time I saw him."

A snicker that clearly denoted he didn't believe a word of it left him, but he stayed otherwise silent, smiling to himself.

She continued to watch the elf curiously, but turned away just before his gaze swept over her section of the room.

Dorian threw her a lifeline. "So, what are you painting today?"

She gave a quick sigh of relief and brushed her mana gently along his aura in thanks.

"I'm working on the final piece to show the owner of that new gallery tomorrow. If I can impress him, that will make for the fifth gallery I have my pieces showcased at in Halamshiral. Fenris will be so pleased."

"Ahh, well good luck to you then. I hope you get in. How big is the new gallery?"

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's supposedly owned by an artist that was a bit of a one-hit wonder around 9:40 Dragon. He had a rather peculiar style, from the works I've seen. It looked like some of the work that was done in ancient times. My pieces might be too progressive for his tastes. We'll see."

Dorian's brow raised in surprise. "9:40 _Dragon_? My, but he isn't young, is he?"

She snorted. "Who is, these days?"

He shook his head. "No, think about it. The gods rose and the veil broke in 9:43 Dragon, right? Hardly anyone who was alive back then still would be, unless they were already immortal. If your gallery owner's history is true, then he was one of the _original ancients_. This could be an incredible opportunity for you."

She smiled knowingly. "I _know_, Dorian. Downplaying potential is one of the mechanics of the Game, remember? You forget, I _love_ the Game."

He grinned, shaking his finger at her as if chiding a naughty child. "Ahh, very good. Well played."

She chuckled. "I'm flattered. It's not often I can out-play you-"

"Hello."

She'd been so engrossed in their conversation that she hadn't noticed someone approaching their table. But now, as she looked up, she barely managed to keep the shocked grimace off of her face. She quickly plastered on a vaguely friendly smile.

"Hello. Can I help you?" It was her Dread Wolf damned neighbor. Of course. And he somehow had his coffee in hand, whereas her order had yet to be filled. Insolence.

The older elf tilted his head, nostrils flaring slightly. "Perhaps. You seem familiar to me, do I know you?"

She shook her head, a very convincing look of confused apology on her face. "Not that I'm aware of, sorry."

He narrowed his eyes, a tiny smirk pulling up the corner of his lips. "Are you quite certain? I know I have met you somewhere, I simply cannot recall your name."

She looked at Dorian. "Does he look like anyone I've met before?"

Dorian kept a straight face as he shook his head. "Not that I remember."

She looked back up at the elf and shrugged, shaking her head. "Abelas. It seems you were mistaken."

Her neighbor hummed disbelievingly, then bowed. "My apologies, then. I expect this is not the last we shall see of each other."

He fully smirked and _winked_ at her, then turned and strode out of the café without another word, as she gaped at his retreating back the whole way. A snicker from Dorian wrenched her eyes away from the now closed door of the shop.

"My my, Miss Lavellan, but you seem to have an admirer." Dorian's expression was more smug than she'd ever seen it.

"I do _not!_ He- he... _quoted _me! That little monster, how _dare_ he!"

Dorian gave a devious little laugh. "Oh-ho, he quoted you? Now this is a story I _have_ to hear. I can't believe you let him off so easily."

"Well I certainly didn't expect him to-"

"Mistress Lavellan? Here is your order." The girl from behind the counter appeared at their table, sliding a cardboard tray containing three cups onto the table. She bowed yet again before she retreated two steps in proper respect, then returned to her station.

Dorian took the tray and canted his head toward the door. Lavellan nodded, then huffed in frustration as she stood, hastily retreating from the establishment.

"I can't believe the gall of that- Oh for- Are you serious?!"

She stopped in her tracks, Dorian barely halting in time to save the drinks as she stared across the street at her neighbor, lounging in an open-air café chair. His coffee was resting on the table in front of him at his fingertips, a book casually splayed across his knee. But he wasn't reading the book, oh, no; he was staring directly at her. A delighted smirk of superiority graced his face as he gingerly lifted his coffee, tipping it at her, then bringing it to his lips. Only then did he divert his eyes from her to his drink, then down to his book as he set the coffee back down, curling his now free hand into a relaxed fist and resting his cheek on it. He was the perfect picture of ease, but she could tell it was an affectation. She knew, even in her indignation, exactly what he was doing. She'd done it many times before, after all, but she'd never thought to have her own skill set turned against her. He was _hunting_.

That little tip of his drink was a signal she knew all too well.

_Game on._


	3. Chapter 3

BZZZZZZZT!

BZZZZZZZT!

BZZZZZZZT!

Phone, phone, phone, wait what? Why was it on vibrate? Better yet, where was it?

A hand slapped randomly against the bedside table, right on the sharp corner. "Ow," came the miserable response to that particular pain, but the hand still continued to search. Finally, the hand relayed the information to its owner that the phone was indeed not anywhere on the table... after knocking over a picture frame and an alarm clock first, naturally.

BZZZZZZZT!

Finally, the owner lifted her head. "Wheressit?" she mumbled, one eye closed, the other eye only half open as she blearily searched her surroundings for the offending technology.

BZZZZZZZT!

"Ugh!" She righted herself in her bed, mostly, and very nearly threw up the alcohol and stomach acid mixture that threatened to erupt from her. After that, a head-pounding headache abruptly asserted itself onto her brain, and she groaned once more in misery.

BZZZZZZZT!

"Shaddup! Go away!" she whined at her demon-possessed phone, which seemed to only wish punishment upon her today. She realized that the sound was coming from somewhere actually on her bed, rather than beside it, and began digging through her rumpled sheet and cover to find it. Eventually, it surfaced, after having somehow slipped its way between the cover and sheet, and wedging itself under her leg, which she now realized was inordinately overheated. She grumbled at the phone, considering throwing it at the wall, but it was a new one as it was, and she certainly didn't feel like going to the damn store for a replacement today. Delaying her wrath for another day, one where she didn't have a hangover, seemed like a much wiser idea at the moment. She fumbled with it in her hands a bit, then finally turned it on, inputting her key code wrong twice before finally tapping in the right number.

BZZZZZZZT!

It buzzed in her hands, making her jump and drop it with a groan of exasperation. She snatched it back up and looked at the now skewed screen, flipping the phone a few times to make the screen show upright. When it finally complied, she tapped her text message app, which was what was causing all the fuss to begin with.

'8 New Texts!' it annoyingly announced, as her eyes adjusted painfully to the brightness of the screen, a tear forming in one eye with the strain of compensation. She scoffed and wiped it away in aggravation as she tried to see who the texts were from.

Five from Fenris.

Two from Dorian.

One from... unknown contact? What? She ignored the ones from Fenris and Dorian for the moment, curiosity egging her on to see if it was an advertisement or an actual person texting from an unknown contact. She tapped it and read.

_Miss Tamalen Lavellan, your brother provided your number to me this morning, so I could confirm your appointment with me this afternoon at 4:30 to show me your artwork, for possible display in my gallery. I am a busy elf, so I would appreciate it if you could confirm at least an hour ahead of time, to let me know if you will indeed be arriving on time. Thank you. _

~FH~

It was only then that she looked up at the clock on her phone's screen, reading the numbers 3:00 to her mixed relief and horror. She quickly tapped in the composing field below the message to reply.

_Apologies for not responding earlier, but yes, I will be there. Thank you for contacting me._

~TL~

She backed out of that chat and looked at the messages from her brother.

_Where are you?_

~FL~

_Isa'ma'lin, it's nearly noon, are you coming in at all today?_

~FL~

_Tamalen, it's bloody well 2 PM, Even Dorian is here, waiting for you. Are you not coming?_

~FL~

_You know you have an appointment with that gallery owner at 4:30, right?_

~FL~

_Tamalen, if you don't text me back in thirty minutes, I'm coming over._

~FL~

That last one was at 2:45. She sighed and replied quickly, knowing her brother was the impatient sort.

_I'll be over in a bit, Fenris, just woke up to my phone buzzing me. I need a shower... or ten._

~TL~

She backed out of that chat and was about to check Dorian's, when a new text came in from the gallery owner's number. She tapped it and read.

_Glad to hear it. I look forward to seeing your work in person._

~FH~

She shrugged. There was no telling how it would go once she got there. The pounding in her head was becoming annoying, that much she knew. She slipped out of bed with a pained grunt, padding into the kitchen and grabbing a glass from the shelf, flipping the water on and sliding the glass under the stream. She drew it up to her mouth once it was full, gulping down water greedily. She would need to be hydrated to be functional at all today. Magic couldn't take care of everything, after all. As she refilled her cup, she went to look at Dorian's texts.

_Missy, I know you're more hungover than I am, but your brother's getting pissed. Might I suggest heading to the studio when you have a moment?_

~DP~

_Your brother's practically glowing over here, you may wish to hurry._

~DP~

She pulled the glass from the stream, overflowing as it was and drank again, downing it, then chuckling as she caught her breath. She replied as she filled the glass one last time.

_Don't worry, Dorian, I'll be over in a bit. I already texted him._

~TL~

In the middle of her typing, she got a text from Fenris.

_It's about damn time, Tamalen! Get your shower and get over here, you told me you've got a piece to finish before the appointment, in case you forgot._

~FL~

She sighed and replied.

_Yes, I remember. I got it done last night, no worries. Give me time for a shower and I'll be over._

~TL~

She rinsed the glass out and set it on the drying rack, then keyed her phone's screen off on her way to the bathroom. She knew she shouldn't have gone to that club last night, but... well, she'd listened to Hawke. Hawke was well known for convincing even the smartest people of the worst ideas, and it had been proven true last night. Lavellan had often wondered if Hawke was Fen'harel in shemlen... and female disguise, as frequently as she tricked people into doing crazily stupid things with her. Lavellan shook her head and turned the water on in her shower, waiting for it to heat up, settling on her toilet to wait and empty her bladder while she was at it. All that water she just drank had have room to go somewhere, after all.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, she was actually feeling like a normal elf. Well, mostly. Her head was still pounding, but that was nothing some elfroot wouldn't fix. A quick drying spell later and a glance in the mirror to make sure she didn't look as hideous as she felt, and she was grabbing a scrunchie to tie her hair up as she walked from the bathroom. She snatched her phone from her dresser as she went to her closet to find something to wear, and keyed the screen on. She was greeted with two new texts, one from Dorian, and yet another one from the gallery owner. Strange.

Dorian's was simple relief on his part that Fenris wouldn't be blowing up the studio today. The gallery owner's however...

_I must say, I have taken a moment to look at some of your pieces online, and I am impressed. You have a style not unlike my own, actually. _

~FH~

Her brow wrinkled in a frown of confusion. She'd seen his work, and it was nothing like hers. She keyed in her response in a state of confused bemusement.

_I think you may have looked at the wrong artist. I've seen your work, and mine is nothing like that._

~TL~

His response was a link. She tapped on it, and it did indeed lead to one of her earlier pieces. How... odd. She replied once more.

_That... is one of my pieces, yes, but I'm afraid I don't see how that's like your work. What I've seen of yours was what was painted in fresco on a castle rotunda's walls._

~TL~

She could almost hear the laughter behind his response.

And you believe my style is limited to that of one example?

~FH~

She shrugged and typed her response.

_I suppose not, that probably does seem rather ignorant of me, doesn't it? Ir abelas. In any case, I'll be there at 4:30. Leaving the house to go to my studio now._

~TL~

_I will await your arrival._

~FH~

She got the last one just as she got in her car, frowning at it as she turned the engine on. Mildly creepy. Oh well, he was old as the gods themselves, probably. A little creepiness likely came with the territory.

She drove to the studio and parked as quick as traffic allowed. Fortunately it wasn't too bad, due to the odd time of day, so she was through the door and greeting Dorian just at the stroke of 3:40.

"Savhalla, Dorian! How are you today?" She set her keys and sunglasses down on the counter, and walked over to where he was doing a final drying on the piece she'd finished the previous night.

He looked up and stopped casting, nodding to her. "Savhalla, Tamalen. I'm relieved that your brother didn't tear me to bits, that's how I am. And you? Head still pounding?"

She grimaced, then nodded. "Yeah sorry about that. And yes, I'm getting some elfroot, want some?" she asked, heading toward the box on the counter that housed her supply.

He shrugged. "I could use some. The pounding's died down, but there's a low, persistent ache in my neck that doesn't want to go away."

She snorted. "And you don't remember why you have that ache?"

He looked at her with dread in his eyes. "You're about to tell me, aren't you?"

She laughed, then winced as that drove a spike of pain into her skull. "Of course I am. But elfroot first."

She opened the box and brought out two small vials of elfroot tincture, then dug deeper for her pipe and some of the leaf itself, cutting it up and setting it into the bowl of the pipe before heading back to Dorian, vials and pipe in hand. She sat next to him and handed him one of the vials, leaving the pipe on the ground for now as they uncorked, toasted, and downed the tinctures. She felt the rejuvenating effects almost immediately, but it would still take time for them to fully suffuse her system. In the meantime, smoke would do. She set the vial down and took the pipe up, putting it to her lips and pointing toward the bowl as she looked at Dorian. He reached over and supplied flame as she drew on the stem of the pipe, then cleared it. She handed it to Dorian as she held the smoke in, watching him smoke.

By the time she released the contents of her lungs, he was handing her the pipe again. She pointed at him to offer another hit if he wanted it. He shook his head, so she took it and stood, grabbing their empty vials and heading back to her box. On her return trip, her face was lit with a devilish smirk. He rolled his eyes at the sight.

"Alright, what happened? The anticipation is killing me. Though, I may want to kill myself after I hear it, if that smirk of yours is any indication."

She laughed, unceremoniously flopping down next to him as she threw her head back. The elfroot was making her muscles relax to a point where she almost felt as if her body was made of liquid. "I don't know the details of what happened, but I do know Bull dragged you off to a more secluded spot, and absolutely everyone could see the bulge in his pants. I'm pretty sure you can figure out why your neck is sore from that alone."

Dorian groaned, letting his brow sink into his waiting palm.

"Well, my neck feels better now," he mumbled from his embarrassed slump.

Tamalen snorted, shaking her head and gesturing lazily to the piece he had been working on. "So's that dry now?"

He lifted his head to look where she indicated, and nodded slowly. "Yes, mostly. Some thicker parts are being a bit stubborn, but I'll have them ready by the time we have to leave. Fenris said the gallery owner contacted him today for your number, did he ever get ahold of you?"

She nodded. "He did, yeah. Seems interested in my work, which I told him I find a little odd, considering what I've seen of his. Then again, he pointed out that the example I cited was only one style of his, and of course he's totally right. It's not like I've always had just the one style. It was stupid of me to assume that of him, when it's not even true for me, I guess."

"Mm," Dorian replied helpfully, and went to work on the piece in front of him without further comment.

"Mm?" she asked, tilting her head. "It's not like you to let something like that pass by without an acerbic statement of some sort."

"Hmm?" He turned back to look at her with questions in his eyes, then seemed to parse what she'd said. "Oh, sorry, I'm just a little distracted. So did the gallery owner call you? Seems like he must've, with that much conversation."

She shook her head. "No, we just texted. Seems nice enough, if a little on the creepy side."

Dorian snorted as he returned his gaze to the painting, running his hands just over the surface of the paint with a heating spell. "Well he is gods know how old, I imagine he's developed a few odd personality quirks over the centuries."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." She shrugged. "Anyway I guess we'll find out for sure in..." she looked up at the clock and promptly leapt to her feet. "Shit! We better get going, Dorian, I don't want to be late."

He chuckled, nonplussed. "We've already loaded most of the paintings, I just need to finish this one and we can go. The gallery's only three blocks over, we'd make it even if we left at 4:25. You know traffic doesn't start bogging down until five before five."

She grimaced and shook her head. "Still, I don't want to leave late. I'll get Fenris, you finish that up and get it loaded."

Tamalen turned and left the room, to the soundtrack of Dorian's call of, "Do I look like a dolly cart to you?"

She snickered and entered the stock rooms, casting about for her brother. She found one of them, but not Fenris. "Mahanon, have you seen Fenris? We're supposed to be going to that gallery in half an hour."

Her younger brother nodded as he worked a chisel and hammer, shaping marble into art. "He was up front last I saw him, wrangling some babies into buying one of Divine Victoria's later pieces. Want me to get him?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll get him."

"Which one is that?" she asked, gesturing to the sculpture he was working on. The face looked... somewhat familiar.

"Fen'harel. I know most don't include him in the pantheon these days, but if the garden's going to be symmetrical, I have to include him." He shrugged, working on the ear with careful, painstaking little taps of his hammer.

A shiver rolled up her spine. She shook herself, wondering what that reaction was about. But she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd seen that face before.

"Good luck at the gallery," her brother wished her.

She nodded absently as she waved at him and turned toward the main gallery. "Thanks."

Then Tamalen ran almost right into Fenris on his way to the back. "Fenedhis!" she exclaimed, a bit too loudly.

Fenris shushed her with a fierce frown behind the finger over his lips. "About time you showed up, isa'ma'lin. Have you talked to Dorian?"

"Yes." She nodded. "He's almost done. I want to leave early, just in case traffic decides to be nasty."

Fenris sighed. "Well fortunately, I thought ahead for you, or we never would've made it on time. The truck's already loaded, aside from the one he's working on."

"I know, he told me. Can we leave as soon as he's done, or do you have babies to take care of?"

He shook his head. "No, they already bought the painting and left. Are you actually ready?"

She shrugged. "As I'll ever be. I'd feel better with another shower, but I'll live."

He leaned in and sniffed her, then shook his head again. "You're fine, I don't smell any alcohol, just your usual ozone scent."

She glared at him.

"What?" He shrugged. "Every Storm Caste mage I've ever met smelled like ozone to me."

She rolled her eyes and started toward her own studio to check on Dorian. Fenris followed wordlessly.

"Ah, good, you found him," Dorian greeted as they came into view. "I've just finished," he said, gesturing to the piece.

Fenris nodded his approval. "Good, let's get it loaded and get out of here. I've already closed up the gallery for the day. I'll count the till when we get back."

Dorian nodded and helped Fenris hoist the painting up, heading to the back door and the truck awaiting them in the parking lot. Tamalen followed with the keys. After the painting was secured, they piled into the cab of the truck, Dorian in the back seat, Fenris driving. Tamalen handed him the keys and clicked her seatbelt on with a quiet huff. She hoped the sampling she'd picked out to bring would be enough to satisfy the gallery's owner.

Her latest piece was inspired by some ancient ruins she'd gone out of town recently to visit, and she'd taken lots of reference shots to keep the place firmly in her memory. Such places were generally either small museums, or totally forgotten by anyone but the gods themselves these days, and she'd stumbled on one such forgotten place by accident, during a camping trip. She never would've found it, if she hadn't literally fallen into it, nearly breaking her leg in the process.

She hoped the resulting piece was worth the near injury.

As they pulled into the ally abutting the back entrance of the gallery, she took a deep breath. She was about to meet an ancient. His expectations of quality would probably be ridiculously high. She took out her phone and sent a text to him, her fingers shaking more than she liked, but she managed.

_We're here._

~TL~

The reply was almost instant.

_Excellent. See you in a moment._

~FH~


End file.
